


Any Other Name

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Potions, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the mistakes Severus had made in his life, the ones he made leading to this day might be the ones that ruin him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubiconjane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubiconjane/gifts).



Severus ran his fingers along the freckled face that was drooling into his favourite pillow.

“Mmm… thinking too loud,” came a voice, muffled by the pillow. Ron Weasley shifted closer and murmured, “Go to sleep.”

Severus just hummed in reply, knowing that _this_ night, sleep would be a long time coming.

“What’re you thinking about anyway?”

“I was wishing for a Pensieve.”

“Want to re-live that seeing to I gave you earlier?”

“No.” Severus pinched his side, enjoying the way those long, naked limbs pushed closer to get away from his fingers. “No, I was wanting to look back on the day we met.”

“You old romantic,” Ron said, affection shining through in his voice. He shot Severus a fond look and when was the last time anyone had looked at him with fondness, talked about him with affection? It must have been Lily Evans, and that was many years before she died. 

And now Ronald Weasley spent his evenings in the flat above his shop, eating dinner, talking quietly, playing chess. Ronald Weasley spent nights in his bed, moaning at his touch, arching under his body. Ronald Weasley held him in the quiet of the morning and told him to go to sleep. 

“I know you’re stressing about my question, Nick, but it’s late. Go to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning.”

Ron kissed Severus’ jaw and closed his eyes, leaving Severus staring at the ceiling thinking about the problem at hand.

_Nick._

Severus had been living as Nicholas Fuller since the night Severus Snape died. Over two decades had passed since the end of the Second Voldemort War. He had settled into the life, feeling guilty that after so many bad decisions and worse actions, he had gotten almost everything he could have wished for. 

He was free of both his Masters, free of students, free of dungeons. He had a small apothecary at the end of Faksh Alley, specialising in hard to make potions. He’d started preparing the year Ron Weasley first started at Hogwarts, so his mastery paperwork was impeccable, the supervising master a Muggleborn who had run to New Zealand at the end of the first war. Whenever he got lonely he told himself that it was penance. That changing his name and face did not mean he wasn’t an anti-social misanthrope and being alone was all he deserved 

Then he’d started tutoring advanced students. Then not-so-advanced students. Then Ron Weasley had walked in with his son begging him to take Hugo on for the summer and Severus, Merlin help him, said yes.

He never expected to even like the man, let alone –

Severus took a deep breath and held it as he allowed his mind to clear. The discipline of Occlumency allowed him to look at his memories and see where each mistake was made.

_Severus looked up from the counter where he was engaged in the tedious job of balancing his books when the bell above the door rang. He looked up to see red robes, and then red hair, and his heart stopped._

_Had they finally figured out his secret, after all these years? Was Ron Weasley, of all people, going to cause his downfall? Point a finger at him and then call for reinforcements before taking him to Azkaban? He knew they spoke of him as a hero, but it’s much easier to claim a spy a hero when that spy is dead. It’s much harder when the spy is alive and the public have to reconcile traitorous actions with a person they see every day._

_Then he saw young Hugo. No matter how hare-brained Weasley and Potter’s schemes had been at school, they would never bring one of their children into a dangerous situation. The relief brought anger and he was sure his glare was as potent as any he had delivered mid-war._

_Ron bent towards his son. “Go have a look around, but don’t touch anything. Understand me?” Hugo nodded and Ron stepped closer to the counter. “Master Fuller? I’m Ron Weasley.”_

_Severus resisted the urge to call the man a nincompoop. Every bloody wizard knew who he was. Instead he stood and gave a short bow. “Mr Weasley. How can I help you?”_

_Severus’ voice now held a trace of the thick accent of his childhood, and Nagini’s fangs had left it husky as if he’d smoked cigars every day of his life, so he had no worry of being recognised that way. If Ron was not here to arrest him, then he was going to be as polite and efficient as possible and get the man out of his shop._

_“Bodrum Spears told me that you tutored his eldest? Hugo’s having some issues and we were wondering –“_

_Severus lifted his hand to stop the conversation. The boy was, if he remembered his gossip pages correctly, heading into his third year at Hogwarts. When the Granger-Weasleys had returned to being just Granger and Weasley, the fate of the poor children – then twelve and ten – had been a prominent subject of debate. Divorce was still relatively rare in their world. All beside the point, because he wouldn’t do it._

_“I’m sorry, Mr Weasley, but I take young adults with a passion for the subject who are heading into their NEWTs, not remedial students. I can recommend –“_

_“ _Please_. He loves potions and was always helping his Mum when she brewed, but there’s something he’s just not getting in the classroom and he could really use the help.”_

_Severus looked over at the boy who looked utterly miserable as stood with hands clasped behind his back and leaned as close as he could to see the ingredients in their glass jars._

_“Please. I’ll pay anything you ask.”_

_“Fine,” he found himself saying. The man was a war hero, and although Ron might not know it, Severus owed him a Life Debt, as did the rest of their world, for helping destroy the Dark Lord’s soul. This would be a small moment of restitution. “Have him back here at five when the shop closes.”_

_“Thank you, Master Fuller.”_

Clearly that had been his first mistake. 

His second was probably liking young Hugo.

_Five o’clock brought the Weasleys back to his shop. Ron had changed out of his robes and was dressed in denims with a casual over-robe as so many of his generation dressed. Hugo was wearing brewing robes – the tight-fitting, buttoned up robes that he’d favoured as Severus Snape. They kept bits of fabric out of cauldrons and he was sorry he’d had to give them up post-war to avoid any association with his pre-war self. These days he brewed in his shirtsleeves._

_“Do you want me to stay?” Ron asked._

_“There’s no need. Just be back in an hour.”_

_“Of course.” Ron turned to his son. “If you need me, I’ll be at Uncle George’s, okay?”_

_Hugo nodded. He was much quieter than the rest of his relatives, which Severus appreciated. He waited until the bell rang signalling the elder Weasley’s departure, then waved his wand to lock the store. The ward would only allow Ron back in._

_In the basement a brewing area with two benches was set up. Severus thought back to his curriculum and what they did at the end of second year._

_“Well, Mr Weasley, we shall start with a Shrinking Solution. The ingredients are in the cupboard behind you, the instructions in your text. And, of course, you’ve made it before.”_

_“We don’t do it until next year, Sir.”_

_“You don’t?”_

_“No, Sir. It’s on the third-year curriculum.”_

_Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on. “It’s a wonder you’re not all falling asleep from boredom if you’re moving that slowly. Very well. Did you do the basic Memory potion?”_

_“Yes. At the end of second.”_

_“Then I shall observe you making that. Begin.”_

_Hugo Weasley had his mother’s attention to detail. His bergamot was shredded into even strips and the dried mistletoe berries were crushed into a fine powder. Even the newt’s eyes were counted carefully and put in a small, glass bowl ready to be added at the right time._

_Then Hugo put a cauldron over the heat and everything fell apart. The heat was too high, he added the newt’s eyes two beats too late and when the first pinch of mistletoe powder was thrown in the entire potion congealed into a black, gummy mess. Severus vanished the mess and the acrid smoke and sat opposite Hugo._

_“Mr Weasley, were you nervous because I was watching you or is that what always happens?”_

_“It’s what always happens,” Hugo said miserably._

_Severus decided to ask him some questions – his usual ones from first year: differences between aconite and monkshood, uses of a bezoar, as well as some more advanced questions like the ingredients of the Wiggenweld potion and the techniques used when making an Invigoration Draught. When Hugo explained the difficulties in making Polyjuice Potion Severus knew the issue was not in the boy’s knowledge._

_“Tell me, Hugo, when you brew with your mother do you go from the recipe like this?”_

_“No. Mum knows what she’s brewing by heart. She just tells me when to add stuff. Sometimes I add it a bit earlier or a bit later, but it’s all her instruction. I guess she’s the one who’s good at potions, not me.”_

_“Firstly, Hugo, may I call you Hugo?” At Hugo’s nod, Severus continued. “Firstly, Hugo, you can become great at anything you have a passion for, you just need to put in the time and energy.”_

_“But I study potions the _most_ and they still don’t work.”_

_“Well. Sometimes it’s important to look at things in a different way.” Severus pulled a sheet of parchment towards him and wrote down some instructions. “These are the ingredients for the Shrinking Solution that you will do next year. Below are some basic instructions, including the order they should be added. Add as you feel they should be added.”_

_Hugo looked dubious, but gathered the ingredients and heated the cauldron. As Severus suspected, the boy quickly fell into a rhythm, and was beautiful to watch. He heard the bell part way through the brewing, but didn’t move. As he expected, Ron made his way down to the basement. He didn’t enter, just stood in the doorway watching his son work. His face was wide open, pride and love shining in every line._

_Hugo finished bottling the solution and looked up, a wide grin on his face._

_“Very well done, Hugo. Shall we test it on your father?”_

_“What? No!” Hugo’s face fell at Ron’s words, so Ron quickly went on. “It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, Hugo, it’s that I don’t want to swell to double my size!”_

_“Clearly you get your skill in potions from your mother,” Severus said drily. “It is a Shrinking Solution, not a Swelling Solution; the two look nothing alike. Also, I have the antidote.”_

_“Oh, well, if you have the antidote, let’s give it a go.”_

_Ron swigged back a mouthful and began to both shrink and de-age. Before Severus’ eyes Ron turned back into the boy he’d taught in fourth year._

_“It worked!”_

_“Course it did.” Ron conjured a mirror. “Hey! Look at that. No more wrinkles. You should make me some more.”_

_“The antidote, Mr Weasley.” Severus held out a pipette. “Three drops should do it.”_

_“Oh. Thanks, Master Fuller.” They all watched as Ron returned to his regular height, lines and grey hairs aging his face. Severus thought it was a better look for him._

_“Hugo,” Severus said, turning back to his student, “you have a similar problem to one I had when I started brewing at school. Potions, like cooking, are both a science and an art. There is science in knowing how ingredients will interact, how they react to heat, what different types of cauldrons do to your concoctions. But true masters see the art in combining different ingredients and making something new, in looking in a cauldron and understanding what is needed next, no matter what the book says. You’ve probably never made custard the Muggle way.”_

_“I have with Grandpa Granger.”_

_“Well, you know that there’s no way to just count until it’s done. You have to keep stirring until it looks right, and that will be different every time. That is the art of cooking, and the art of potions is very similar. You have learnt the art before the science, through brewing with your mother, and even through cooking with your grandfather. It makes you doubt yourself when you try to brew strictly from the recipe. Come back at the same time on Thursday and I’ll teach you to brew instinctually. Then we’ll work on you brewing in a classroom setting. Alright?”_

_“Yes, Sir.”_

_“But this does not mean you can get away with not learning the science. The fact you understand the art makes it doubly important that you understand the properties of the ingredients and tools that you use.”_

_“I understand, Sir.”_

_“Good. Then I’ll see you Mondays and Thursdays, if that suits, Mr Weasley.”_

_“Of course. Thank you for your time, Master Fuller.”_

 

Over the next few weeks Ron started coming earlier and earlier, occasionally still in his Auror robes. Sometimes he’d sit quietly and watch Hugo and Severus work together, sometimes he’d commandeer a section of bench and do paperwork or read. He wasn’t the brash man he’d been in his youth. Then, about a month into their association, Severus made his third mistake. Who knew letting the man use the Floo would have such terrible consequences.

_Ron arrived as Hugo was stirring lacewing flies into a batch of Polyjuice. He was carrying a small trunk._

_“That is as far as we take it, Hugo. It has to sit for a time before we move to the next steps.” He turned to Ron. “Mr Weasley.”_

_“Master Fuller. I was wondering if I could ask a favour.”_

_“You can certainly ask,” he said as he and Hugo began their clean-up._

_“Hugo is staying with the Scamanders tonight. Could we use your floo?”_

_“Of course. That’s what it’s there for.”_

_“And would you mind terribly if I came back here? I was going to drop in on George and he has a habit of booby-trapping the Floo. It’s easier to avoid if you go in the door.”_

_“Of course.”_

_“Okay. Come on, Hugo.”_

_“Thank you, Master Fuller,” Hugo said, as he always did, and Severus nodded, as he always did._

_He’d finished his clean up before Ron returned._

_“Thank you.”_

_“You’re welcome.”_

_Ron didn’t make any move to leave. Severus stood silent, waiting for him to talk._

_“We, uh, we never agreed on a price for tutoring,” he said eventually._

_“It’s a pleasure working with Hugo; no charge.”_

_“No, I couldn’t –”_

_“Really. Besides, you saved all our lives during the war.”_

_“Oh, no. I don’t take freebies for that, unless the freebies are beer.”_

_“Well, I won’t take payment for tutoring Hugo, especially given how well-stocked my shelves are due to his help.”_

_“Will you let me take you to dinner?”_

_“What?”_

_“Dinner. With me. Like… on a date. You can say no, of course, and I’ll just find some gift you might like and bring that with me on his last lesson, but I’d really like to take you to dinn-”_

_“Mr Weasley!”_

_“Master Fuller.”_

_“I’d love to go to dinner with you.”_

_“Then perhaps you should call me Ron.”_

_“Ron, then. And I’m Nick. When did you want to go to dinner?”_

_“Tonight?”_

_“I thought you were going to your brother’s.”_

_“I just said that so you’d let me come back through your floo.”_

 

That dinner led to another, and then a lunch and morning coffee and another dinner and Severus didn’t see all the little mistakes that were adding up, how every yes was going to lead to this moment, of Ron in bed next to him, and a confession hanging over his head. The next mistake he could track happened when he walked Ron to his door.

_“Did you want to come up? Have some tea and a game of chess?” Ron asked._

_“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Don’t want to show me your etchings?”_

_“First, I don’t have any etchings. Second, I don’t play games with chess.” He visibly thought for a moment. “Except, you know, the actual game of chess. Because you’re playing a game when –”_

_Severus loved the way Ron rambled when he got flustered. “That seems like a challenge, Mr Weasley.”_

_“It certainly is, Master Fuller.”_

_“Then lead the way.”_

_Their evening stretched into the early hours of the morning until they eventually reached a draw._

_“Well, Ronald, it seems we are at an impasse.” He looked up to see a small, pleased smile on Ron’s face. “What?”_

_“I just like the way you say Ronald.”_

_“I’ll have to say it more often. Ronald.” They both looked down at that, and Severus waved his hand and murmured, “ _Tempus_.”_

_“Wandless,” Ron said, and Severus flinched. He was usually more careful about showing his skills in that arena. But when Ron looked up there was no accusation, or even curiosity. His eyes were shining with a much more animal emotion. “I’ve always had a bit of a thing for competence.”_

_Which, thought Severus, explained his relationship with his former wife._

_“Well, as much as I’d like to show you how competent I am at all sorts of things, I do have to go to work in the morning, even if the store doesn’t open until eleven.”_

_“You could stay here tonight. Get to bed a little earlier.”_

_“Ronald…” he said, the name a warning._

_“I know. May I have a kiss then? Before you go?”_

_“Of course.”_

_They stood in front of the cold fireplace and Ron raised his hand to cup Severus’ cheek. They’d kissed before: a brief caress after Hugo had gone through the floo, a tender goodbye as they parted ways at a restaurant. This felt different, more intimate. There was promise in the way Ron’s other arm circled his waist, clutching at his robes. In the way Severus tilted his head and opened his mouth. He wasn’t sure who stepped forward first, but then they were pressed hips to chest, legs entangled, erections nestled next to each other._

_Ron raised his head but didn’t step back. “I should let you go,” he murmured._

_“Don’t.”_

_Ron nodded and kissed him again._

_Severus only made it to his store to put a “staff sick” sign on the door before heading back to Ron’s bed._

 

It was too late, by that stage, to come back from his mistakes. He didn’t realise it at the time, but all the decisions he’d made were leading towards the dinner they’d had earlier that night.

 

_Severus had been banned from the kitchen, which was a good thing because he was scared to look inside. He’d smelt smoke, momentarily, and heard the odd clatter and bang, though no sounds of broken glass. He knew Ron could put together a meal – Molly had taught all her children to be self-sufficient – but he worried the man was taking on more than he could handle._

_Still, he stayed away and spent his time setting the table, charming candles to float above them and making a small posy out of some potions ingredients he’d collected over the weekend and not set out to dry yet. The small vase of lavender, borage and mint flowers was aromatic as well as pretty. This was their last dinner before Hugo and Rose arrived home for the summer, and it would be the four of them for the first half of the break in Ron’s small apartment, before the children travelled to France to spend the rest of the holiday with their mother. So he wanted the dinner to be romantic._

_“Hey, this looks great!” Ron’s voice came from right behind him and Severus relaxed back to the arms he knew would be waiting for him. “Dinner’s ready.”_

_The meal floated in over Ron’s shoulder, a roast chicken, roast vegetables and sautéed spinach. None of it was burnt beyond repair; in fact it smelt delicious. Over dinner they spoke about plans for the holiday, the paperwork Ron had to finish before he took time off, and Severus’ new apprentice. Ron brought out ice cream for dessert._

_“It was the chocolate tart I burnt, so there’s just vanilla ice cream and some chocolate I’d grated for decoration.”_

_“I love ice cream.”_

_“I know. But, well, this was meant to be in your tart.” Ron put the bowl down and pulled a box from his pocket. Severus cracked it open and inside was a ring with a single, large piece of amber in the centre. A very masculine ring, and amber was said to be protective. It was a potion-maker’s stone, because it wasn’t really a stone, but a fossil – something that was created from something else. It was a thoughtful gift, but Severus thought it was also a question._

_“Is this -?”_

_“Yeah. Yes. But now I don’t want to ask the question.” Ron sat back down at the table. “Nick, I want to marry you, but I don’t to pressure you. If you say yes, it’s wonderful. If you say no, please consider staying with me, because I love you and I want to be with you, whether there’s a ceremony to go with it or not.”_

_“Can I think about it?” he asked._

_“Yes. While you eat your ice cream.”_

 

After they ate the ice cream Severus dragged Ron to bed, wanting one last night to remember before it all ended. And it would end. Because when Ron said he loved him, Severus realised he loved Ron as well and that he had to tell Ron the truth.

Severus had been Nick for so long that he always answered to the name, never fell into Severus’ old habits. But he never thought of himself as Nick. He was still Severus with all the guilt from Severus’ actions and the black marks on his soul from Severus’ decisions. And he couldn’t keep telling himself that he was Nick in all the ways that counted so it didn’t matter that Ron didn’t know. Ron would care, and it was time that he saw all that his Nick was.

 

Severus gave up on sleep when sunlight began seeping in past the drapes. He decided to make breakfast for them both. Sausages and kippers and eggs and bacon. A final meal. The smell of the frying meat drew Ron from sleep.

“For me?” Ron asked, joining Severus at the stove and wrapping an arm around his waist. Severus nodded silently, too upset to find words. Ron pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck before moving to the icebox to find the juice.

They sat down and Severus decided to get it out before he could have second thoughts. This was a good time to do it – if it went wrong then Ron would have the children to distract him.

“Ronald, there’s something I need to tell you. After that you may change your mind about what you asked last night.”

Ron looked into his eyes for a long moment before nodding and sitting quietly, a reminder that the eleven-year-old boy he’d taught so many years ago was gone and replaced with a grown man who had seen more than he should have.

Severus dished food out to both their plates, then stared at his scrambled eggs. He didn’t know how to start. Instead he asked a question. “What did you think of Severus Snape?”

Ron looked surprised for a moment at the seeming non-sequitur, but shrugged. “Right git he was,” he said between mouthfuls. “Always nasty to us. Always angry. _Terrible_ teacher. I hated him from the first day of class to the last.”

Severus tried to tell himself that he was Nick now, that the words were about someone else. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t feel hurt, because Ron’s words were true, and much of it wasn’t an act for the Dark Lord’s benefit. But it didn’t stop the squeeze of his heart at that word – hate.

“Then, you know, he saved our lives. And I did a bit of undercover work and got to thinking about the role he had to play for so many years and how it would have affected him and I came to respect him, you know. What he did for us – not just the wizarding world, but me, Harry and Hermione as well. That history of _his_ just makes me love you more. You do know that, don’t you?”

“What?”

“All of that, it just makes you who you are today. I already know everything that he did and I don’t judge _you_ for it.”

“You knew.”

Ron nodded.

“How?”

“I am an Auror, you know. And I spent much of my youth solving mysteries and saving people –”

“As I recall it was Miss Granger that solved the mysteries.”

“It’s Ms now, and fine, she figured this one out as well. When you first opened the shop. Said your brewing style was the same and she caught sight of the edges of your scar one day.”

Which explained why Ron had never commented on it.

“Why didn’t you –“

“Turn you in?” Ron swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “The Aurors still considered you a Death Eater, but we didn’t. I may have considered it for a passing second, but Harry’s been telling everyone who’d listen that you were a hero since the day after the final battle. You just wanted to live your life after that horrible war, same as us, so we left you alone. Merlin, Harry said if he could have disappeared like you did, he would’ve. The only thing we couldn’t figure out was the change in your appearance. You don’t take Polyjuice constantly.”

“I developed a permanent form of Polyjuice during the first war, for someone trying to escape the Death Eaters. It doesn’t turn you into someone else, it kind of joins your essence with the donors and creates a new person. It’s meant to lean more towards the other person, but, well, that’s why I’m still stuck with this nose.”

“It does look very different in that face. Which is good. Not that you weren’t handsome before, I guess, though I never really looked. It’s just I’m not sure I would have gotten past the man who taught me, you know?” Ron looked down at his plate, pushing the kippers in a circle. “Are you angry at me for not telling you that I knew?”

“Are you angry at me for not telling you?”

“No. You’re a different person now. You’re Nicholas Fuller, the man I want to marry. Who you were in the past, it’s important, but it doesn’t matter like that. I mean, it doesn’t change the way I feel. So. My question?”

“If we get married I’ll have to say my real name. The magic impels it.”

“Did you know that _Harry Potter_ is a legal celebrant? Got registered so he could marry Victoire and Teddy. We also know someone in the Department of Magical Records who could, say, take an official record of marriage and hide it somewhere. Replace it with one with a different name. So if, hypothetically, someone wanted to get married under a different name than the one they were born with, they could have a private ceremony with _the_ Harry Potter presiding, and maybe _the_ Hermione Granger as a magical witness. Then that person could have a small, fake, ceremony, just family and friends, maybe a reception in a little restaurant so no one has to cook, and no one would need to know that this person was still alive.”

“That sounds like a remarkably intelligent and well thought out plan.”

“I have my moments. And I’m well-motivated. I want us to be together.”

“Romantic sap.”

Ron grinned.

“You need to actually ask me.”

“Will you, Nicholas Fuller, previously known as Severus Snape, marry me?”

“Yes, Ronald Weasley. I’ll marry you.”


End file.
